


Tutor

by 127s



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, author overwrites a kissing scene as usual, author still sucks at editing, classic dotae bickering, comedic relief kim jungwoo, enemies but with FEELINGS, nerd Taeyong, pink hair taeyong, popular doyoung, you all know what inspired this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/127s/pseuds/127s
Summary: “Taeyong,” The woman starts, moving to pull out a drawer of her desk, and a moment later sets down a small stack of papers and begins to sort through them. “I assume you remember asking me if there’s any way you can get extra credit for the semester?”Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. Of course he does, he’d askedeveryteacher that, but he has no idea what that has to do with the practically inevitable detention he’s getting. “I do, yes.”She exhales, pulling two sets of stapled sheets out of the pile. “There’s an opportunity for tutoring that’ll get you some. And considering you’re my only student with perfect marks, I’d like for you to take it.”Straightening in his seat, Taeyong nods again. He’s tutored those in grades below for him before, and it’s always been more than worth it— but something about it doesn’t feel right. Regardless, he’d never deny extra credit nor the chance to impress a teacher. “I’d love to—““Your student will be Kim Doyoung. I’m sure you’re familiar with him by now.”
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 30
Kudos: 193





	Tutor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrydoie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydoie/gifts).



Taeyong can’t stand Kim Doyoung.

It’s as simple as that— he hates the other. Hates the way he acts, the way he talks, hates his presence.

And more than anything, he hates that he’s the only one who thinks that way.

Doyoung is ridiculous. He’s ignorant and rude and a dozen other things that Taeyong thinks makes up a bad person— yet he’s _charming_ , he’s popular and good looking enough to flirt his way into anyone’s liking. Other than his own, of course.

And he knows the dislike isn't one sided, either. He’s always on the end of backhanded insults and glares from Doyoung, and though he’s not shy from returning them, it’s never worth the effort— Taeyong has things that are actually _important_ to worry about.

And for the most part, that’s maintaining straight A’s, and being the perfect, favorite student of every teacher.

Which, apparently, seems to bother Doyoung, though he assumes that’s some kind of jealously. Fairly redundant, considering if he just put some kind of work towards his grades rather than flirting with every person that looked in his direction, he could get at least close to Taeyong’s level, but that’s not the point.

Who the hell does Lee Taeyong think he is?

What kind of high school student needs _pink_ fucking hair? It looks ridiculous, it makes him stand out when so clearly does he not deserve to.

Every time Doyoung approaches his class, and sees the head of stupidly bright pink already sat at the desk nearest to the teacher’s, sitting in that ridiculous manner he always does,— was he taught to sit like that? He seems like the type to hold up his pinky finger when he drinks something— he wants to immediately head back the way he’d came, as if he can afford to skip class.

He’s so stuck up, so insistent on being the perfect little student that makes everyone else look bad, Doyoung can’t stand it.

But what he hates that most is that he’s _different_ , different to anyone else in the school, or in general, really. He’s not someone Doyoung can win over with a rehearsed compliment and the smirk he’s perfected, the kind that’s got him to the top of the high school popularity he knows doesn’t quite matter in the long run— but for some reason, it does to him.

Exhaling as he enters the particular class, he adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder. And sure enough, there’s the unfairly pretty pink-haired boy in his front and centre seat, like he owns the place.

Without much realisation, he’s rolling his eyes at his presence alone, making his way to his seat at the back of the room, same row as Taeyong’s.

Though the other must have caught the eye-roll, because Taeyong’s chair shifts, and his voice comes a moment later. “Is there a problem, Doyoung?”

Oh my _god_ , he's infuriating.

“Yeah, actually,” Doyoung sets his bag on his seat, before half-sitting on the desk. “Your stupid hair. How is anyone supposed to focus with you looking like that?”

Taeyong folds his arms. Upon entering, there had only been a few students aside from Taeyong, though with every moment closer to the start of the class, more desks became occupied. “No one else seems to care about it. And it’s not like you ever do anything in class, anyway. You’re just—“

“No one else wants to hurt Princess Taeyong’s feelings and get ratted out to a teacher like you always do.” Doyoung interrupts, and hears a slight exhale of amusement from Johnny, who’d just taken the seat to his left.

“Like you care about my _hair_! You just want to start a fight, like always,” Taeyong snaps, standing up. “Because you’re the most immature person in the entire school.”

“Oh my god. Again? Can you guys give it a rest, like once? I have a headache.” Sighs Jungwoo upon entering, the student with the unfortunate role of sitting at the desk between Doyoung and Taeyong’s.

“Oh, I’m the immature one?” Doyoung straightens too, completely ignoring Jungwoo’s comment, or the presence of anyone at all, for that matter. “That’s real rich of you, Taeyong, considering you’re the—“

“Doyoung, Taeyong?”

Taeyong stiffens at the voice of the teacher, and turns to face the woman, trying his best to look attentive. If she’d heard anything he’d—

“Could I see you both after class?”

Oh no. He’s _done_ for. He’s going to get a detention, or whatever on earth is worse than that— what is there that’s worse than detention? He doesn’t have a clue, not when he’s never needed to face any kind of punishment. Twelve years of school without a single break of a rule, without anything other than a clean record and that’s all ruined because of Kim Doyoung.

“Of course.” Taeyong nods, forcing his most polite smile before taking his seat, and refraining from immediately putting his head in his hands.

He hears Doyoung mutter something to the others sat in the back row— likely something about the extent of hatred he has for Taeyong, nothing new.

There’s no way he can focus during the class, how’s he supposed to? Unlike Doyoung, he’s never had to hear any words of disappointment from a teacher, and he doesn’t have a clue what he’s going to get after the class is over.

He tries his best to keep on top of the work as usual, taking perfectly outlined notes and raising his hand to answer whatever question the teacher has, —because frankly, he’s the only one who knows them all— yet he still feels so _distracted_ by the annoying presence at the back of the room. If he does end up with a detention, he knows Doyoung will be overjoyed. He’d find the same sensation in mildly inconveniencing him, knocking over something, but to do something like this, to ruin Taeyong’s clean record? He’s just the right amount of evil to love it.

When the class does come to an end, Taeyong’s particularly slow with packing up his desk, carefully placing a variety of colored pens and highlighters into their designated places before slipping in his notebook and zipping up his bag.

“We’ll be outside.” Taeyong looks over his shoulder to see Johnny and Jaehyun talking to Doyoung, and exhales slightly.

Whatever his opinion may be on Doyoung, he can’t deny that he’s beautiful. There, stood with two of the countless friends he has, he looks thoughtful, concentrated, expression firm with something that makes his perfectly defined features all the more attractive. Taeyong hates it.

He must have been staring, must have lost track of thought— because his friends are gone a moment later, and Doyoung’s looking in his direction now, cocking an eyebrow infuriatingly. “What? Jealous that I actually have friends?”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. Typical Doyoung, thinking the entire world revolves around the number of people in your life. Who cares about that? Friends won’t get Taeyong good grades.

He looks to the front of the classroom, where the teacher’s wrapping up a conversation with Yuta.

How is he going to tell his parents? How’s he even going to process it himself? What do people even _do_ in detention?

He’s not sure why, but he glances over his shoulder to Doyoung once more, and immediately regrets it. The other is so obnoxiously cocky, making it blatantly obvious that he knows what this means for Taeyong— if anything, he’s probably wondering how he hadn’t come up with something like this before.

When the teacher clears her throat, Taeyong looks back to her, tries his best to prepare himself for whatever he’s going to hear.

“Taeyong,” The woman starts, moving to pull out a drawer of her desk, and a moment later sets down a small stack of papers and begins to sort through them. “I assume you remember asking me if there’s any way you can get extra credit for the semester?”

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. Of course he does, he’d asked _every_ teacher that, but he has no idea what that has to do with the practically inevitable detention he’s getting. “I do, yes.”

She exhales, pulling two sets of stapled sheets out of the pile. “There’s an opportunity for tutoring that’ll get you some. And considering you’re my only student with perfect marks, I’d like for you to take it.”

Straightening in his seat, Taeyong nods again. He’s tutored those in grades below for him before, and it’s always been more than worth it— but something about it doesn’t feel right. Regardless, he’d never deny extra credit nor the chance to impress a teacher. “I’d love to—“

“Your student will be Kim Doyoung. I’m sure you’re familiar with him by now.”

‘What?” Doyoung stands, chair screeching against the floor of the classroom. “I didn’t agree to that.“

“Doyoung,” The woman calmly smiles. “At this rate, you chances of graduating, let alone passing without this are very low,” She lines up the papers on the table, evening them. “While it’s entirely up to the both of you, I can’t emphasise the benefits the arrangement will have enough.”

Maybe the detention wouldn’t have been so bad after all, Taeyong thinks.

“But— Why him? Can’t a teacher tutor me, or something?” Doyoung asks, and Taeyong looks to him, refraining from rolling his eyes a second time in the last five minutes. How does he talk to a teacher like that?

“Our staff is busy as is with exams approaching. As I said, Taeyong is the only student passing with perfect grades. Your best chance is with him.”

Defeated, Doyoung falls quiet.

Taeyong clears his throat. “Can I, uh— Have some time to think over this, actually?”

He sees her consider for a moment, then give Taeyong a sweet look. “Of course. I’d like for you to get back to me with your decision before the end of the week, though.”

“No problem,” Taeyong exhales. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Doyoung mumbles, taking his bag and not even bothering to put the strap over his shoulder before he's storming out of the room— but no, _Taeyong_ is the immature one, he bitterly thinks.

“So? What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I don’t want to be tutored by _him_ ,” Doyoung emphasises the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “I mean, how will I even know he’ll bother to do anything right?”

“Because he wants the extra credit, I guess,” Jaehyun says on the other line, and Doyoung can practically hear the other shrugging through the phone. “Look, I know you two don’t get along or whatever, but I’m just saying— It’s better to at least give it a shot, rather than fail the class completely.”

Yeah, maybe Jaehyun’s right. But that doesn’t mean Doyoung actually wants to hear that.

“It’s late, I should go.” The other’s saying before Doyoung can go on with more rants about the matter.

Taking his phone away from his ear, he lets the screen light up so he can read the time atop of it. It’s past midnight, to be fair, and he’s already rambled for well over an hour.

“Okay, yeah. See you tomorrow.” Doyoung hums, and hangs up with that, tossing the phone to the other side of his bed, and turning his gaze to the ceiling.

Stupid fucking Lee Taeyong.

As if he doesn’t already think about him enough.

When the sun rises, and after the sound of his alarm has filled the room, he can’t even register if he’s slept or not, or if he’s really just been in the same spot for the last six hours, thinking about the overly smart pink-haired boy from his class.

Practically dragging himself out of bed, Doyoung wills himself through the routine of getting ready for the day, and lingers in the mirror for a while after showering, lazily fiddling with the tie of his uniform before beginning to fuss over the state of his hair.

After a walk to school with Mark, —though in the grade below, he lived across the street from Doyoung and made good company for the fifteen minutes— he exhales as he heads through the main doors, immediately welcomed by the chatter of the halls.

Doyoung makes sure to bring a smile to his expression as he nods at a few people that greet him, occasionally stopping to make brief conversation with a few groups of people he passes, until he’s interrupted by Johnny approaching him, humming for his attention. “Did you study?”

“Study?” He frowns. “For what?”

Johnny exhales. “You forgot again—“

“Fuck.” Doyoung mutters.

“I mean, it’s just a practice exam, but— Still graded.” Johnny offers, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, though Doyoung shakes his head. Whatever it is, he’s clueless. As usual.

Taeyong knows he never has to stress. He’s never once had trouble with an exam, with even a practice exam— yet he still feels a sense of nervousness before every one, a fear that _this_ might be the one where he doesn’t know an answer, where he messes something up and ruins the streak of perfection he’s worked so hard on.

He clicks his pen a few times as he lowers himself into his seat. In the particular class, he takes the one closer to the door rather than the centre of the room, though still at the front, of course.

He’d revised for what was probably well over four hours the evening earlier, so much so that even as he’d drifted to an eventual sleep, he’d thought over the material he’d studied over and over, read aloud and rewrote and quizzed himself on dozens of times. Well, that and Doyoung, that is.

It’s embarrassing, really, the amount of time and effort he’s putting into the other, and into making the decision about tutoring. Sure, he wants the extra credit, but he’s almost positive it simply won’t _work_ , Doyoung’s all too difficult to even talk to, let alone teach something—

The other enters along with Johnny, and for only a moment, his and Doyoung’s eyes meet. Taeyong’s the one to look away, gaze going down to the pen he holds.

He exhales. Whatever. He shouldn’t care about it, or him. Not now, at least.

The classroom slowly fills, and soon enough, they’re handed their practice exams and Taeyong’s getting started. As they always tend to, it comes easily to him— answers he knows as well as his own name. And even after he’s triple checked his answers, he’s sure he’s still one of the first to finish.

And without being able to stop himself, Taeyong finds himself looking over his shoulder, letting his eyes find Doyoung.

There he was, working through the practice exam. But very quickly does Taeyong realise that he’s not pausing to think before answering a question, he’s leaning to the side, squinting at the exam of the person next to him, —Moon Taeil, Taeyong recognises— before writing on his own.

Taeyong looks back to his own. He’s _cheating_?

Does he always cheat?

No. Surely someone would have noticed— Hell, even he would have noticed.

Taeyong’s breathing feels a little faster than usual. Why is _he_ nervous? He’s not the one cheating on an exam, practice or not, and in any other circumstance he’d probably be the one going straight to tell someone of what he’d seen—

But no. Instead, he feels something— Bad. Is Doyoung really struggling so much that he feels the need to cheat on a practice exam? Taeyong can’t imagine being in that position, not even knowing if you’d be able to pass, to graduate.

There, he decides. Not only is he not going to tell of what he’d seen— but he’s also going to tutor Doyoung. Or try, at least.

Doyoung doesn’t have a clue why Taeyong had agreed. Not when the teacher approaches him to tell him his first session is at the library at four on Friday, nor in the following days and the sleepless nights that accompany them, where he spends hours upon hours contemplating why the other bothers to make an effort for him. He knows Taeyong’s a nerd and all, but is tutoring the student with the worst grades in the class really worth the few extra credits? Surely not.

Things between them are a weird kind of unfamiliar too, Taeyong is _different_ , in a way Doyoung can’t really explain in words. He’s quieter than usual, no longer bothering to call Doyoung out when he does or says something, if anything, it seems like he’s avoiding him.

And as much as Doyoung racks his brain, he can’t figure it out, what changed, what’s different, and more than anything, why he can’t get the boy off of his goddamn mind.

Friday’s come before he knows it, and he can’t believe he’s actually going to have to spend his afternoon in a library.

He’s barely familiar with the layout, he’s been inside enough times to count on one hand, though luckily Taeyong is in sight from the entrance, sat at a small table with a few books stacked ahead of him.

Doyoung takes a long inhale, making his way over. Admittedly, before Taeyong’s taken notice of him, he looks peaceful. He’s neatly writing some kind of notes, and his face is extra pretty when he’s concentrated— not that Doyoung’s paying attention to that, though.

He clears his throat to gain Taeyong’s attention, and Taeyong slightly flinches upon being interrupted, though seems to relax when he looks up to find Doyoung there.

Doyoung pulls out the chair beside Taeyong, sitting lazily and dumping his bag on the ground between them.

“Did you bring the last test we did?” Taeyong asks, looking back to the notes he’d been writing.

“Yeah, I did.” Doyoung answers, leaning down to his bag to unzip and flip through sheets of failed tests, unfinished homework, and messily written notes.

He places it on the table, and Taeyong gingerly takes it, flipping through the pages and glancing over the answers. “They’re all...”

“Wrong? Yeah. There’s a reason I’m failing the class, genius.” Doyoung snaps, in a tone that’s maybe just a little too loud— earning a sharp glare from the librarian sorting through a shelf nearby.

Taeyong sighs heavily, pushing the notebook in Doyoung’s direction. “I wrote some notes for you. Basic definitions, and stuff. It’s a good place to start.”

Doyoung skims over it. It’s frustrating, because to Taeyong they’re ‘basic definitions’, or whatever condescending way he decides to call them, but to Doyoung it’s nonsensical— half the terms Taeyong uses as definitions seem like words he’s made up off the top of his head. “Right. Because I need everything basic. Must suck having to explain things to an idiot.”

“What is wrong with you, Doyoung?” Taeyong asks, putting the test down. “I’m trying to help you—“

“Are you? Or are you just trying to get extra credit? Or whatever other reason you’re here— To make me feel stupid, I’m guessing?” Doyoung’s rambling before he knows it, he’s overwhelmed by something he can’t even name, and all he can do is take that out on Taeyong, like he’s so used to. Used to raising his voice and balling his fists and shooting pointless insults at him, and yet he can’t even name a reason why.

“Are you serious? You don’t even know me, and you think I’m just here to make you feel bad. Why would I bother to do that?” Taeyong asks, and something in his tone falters with the question, makes his voice waver.

“Excuse me,” A woman voices, and Doyoung looks up to find the librarian ahead of their desk. “I’m going to have to ask you two boys to leave.”

Taeyong is _humiliated_ , to say the least.

Kicked out of the library— the place he spends every break, every afternoon. The librarian is practically the closest thing he has to a friend on school grounds, and Doyoung’s made him be kicked out.

His cheeks are flushed as he apologises profusely to the woman, hurries to force everything into his backpack. And yet, Doyoung looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

It’s so frustrating, how he can act so horribly with no justification, and always get away with it because he’s charming and pretty.

“You’re awful, Doyoung. Do you know that? I _tried_ , and you can’t even give anything a chance for more than a minute before you’re starting some useless fucking argument about nothing!” They’re well and truly out of the library building now, yet Taeyong’s still walking, where exactly, he has no clue, but Doyoung’s going with him.

‘Taeyong—“

“What? I saw you. I saw you cheating on that practice exam and I felt bad because someone who feels the need to cheat on something like that clearly isn't doing great, so I wanted to help, okay? And what a fucking mistake that was, because you won’t even give me the chance.”

He knows Doyoung wants to say something, but Taeyong can’t bring himself _stop_ , not when the mess of his mind is finally getting some type of relief to what’s been so uncomfortably bottled up.

“I didn’t try for the extra credit, I didn’t try to make you feel stupid, I tried because I felt bad for you, and maybe I shouldn’t have, no, I definitely shouldn’t—“

“Taeyong.” Doyoung breathes, and Taeyong’s wrist is taken into his grip. The touch is surprisingly gentle, enough to make him fall into a temporary silence, to look to the hold Doyoung now has on him. And oddly enough, it feel _nice_ to have him there, to have that touch.

They’re behind the library building now— Taeyong’s never given much thought to the area of the school, but now, in the lighting of the sunset, it looks kind of nice.

He’s opening his mouth to speak again, because something tells him he’s nowhere done, but then there’s another touch; one at his chin, holding his face in place, and before Taeyong can even piece together what that entails, Kim Doyoung is kissing him.

He’s never gone through a set of emotions so quickly. At first, he’s furious. Furious at Doyoung and everything about him and everything’s he’s caused, and then he’s confused, —because, for some reason, Doyoung is _kissing_ him— and then he’s something else. He feels himself relaxing, his own hand instinctively moving to Doyoung’s chest to gently rest in place, and his lips— Taeyong’s never kissed anyone before. And in theory, a first kiss is kind of terrifying with that in mind, because how on earth was he supposed to know what to do? But here, kissing Doyoung, everything just happens so naturally, he’s running purely on instinct, gently moving his lips against the others, and God, are they soft. Sparks, he’d heard of sparks time and time again, sparks when you kissed someone— this was that and more. Electricity and adrenaline through his entire body in a way he’d never felt before.

He’s not sure who moves away first, but he’s looking into Doyoung’s eyes, and Doyoung’s looking into his, and without a word actually being spoken to one another, he can’t help feeling like they’re still telling each other _something_.

With his gaze, Doyoung’s asking something, and though Taeyong can only make a guess of what it is, he doesn’t care. He’s nodding gently, and then Doyoung’s kissing him again.

He’s against a wall now, the brick of the library building, and Doyoung’s kiss is something more, something of passion and the years of built up tension between the two of them.

And it’s _good_.

Taeyong brings fingers through the hair at the back of Doyoung’s head, letting the other guide the movements of the kiss. It all feels so terribly natural, Taeyong thinks maybe in another life, they’ve done it before.

He’s so breathless, and when he feels a hand untuck the button-up shirt of his uniform, slip underneath the fabric to brush cool fingertips over his skin, he finds himself pulling away, looking to the side.

What is he doing?

Ten minutes ago he hadn’t even really considered kissing somebody, and now here he is, pressed against a wall at the doings of somebody he’d practically consider an enemy.

“Are you okay?”

Taeyong doesn’t quite register the question, his minds too busy on something else— on how suddenly everything seems to make sense. On why Doyoung’s always felt so different to anyone else, on why he’d hated seeing Doyoung struggle with something more than he could put into words.

“Taeyong?”

“I gotta go.” Taeyong mumbles, quickly re-tucking his shirt and shaking his head absentmindedly. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows the last thing he should be doing is running from his feelings, and from Doyoung, but he’s already moving. His hands are shaking from the kiss and he’s sure he’s walking weird because his legs feel weak, but he’s leaving. Leaving with the knowledge that he’s more than likely in love with Kim Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t stop thinking about Taeyong over the weekend.

He’s kissed his fair share of people before. And with them they were just that, just kisses. But with Taeyong, it was so much more, something so unexplainable, other than that it was right. God, it was right. As if everything of the universe aligned specifically for them in that moment, and not a thing mattered except for the two of them.

He’d stood there, behind the library, long enough for the sun to completely set, and wandered home in the dark of the night. 

Simultaneously, nothing and everything makes sense, and he doesn’t know what to do, what to feel.

All he knows is that he wants Taeyong again. He wants to talk to him, to be with him, to kiss him, and more than anything, he wants to apologise for everything he’s done.

But when he comes to class on Monday morning, Taeyong isn’t there. He’s not there when the class starts to fill with students, and he’s not there when the teacher arrives, he’s not there at all.

Doyoung had never once seen Taeyong miss a single class, let alone an entire day. He often recalled a class where even with a nosebleed that had made Kim Jungwoo faint, he’d insisted he was fine to stay in class, that he simply _couldn’t_ miss any material so close to exam season.

He’s not there Tuesday either, not Wednesday and not Thursday.

And everyday when he doesn’t see a seat taken in the front row by the ridiculous-looking pink hair he’s so used to, he feels like he’s sinking. Like something is missing, something is wrong.

But Friday, he’s there.

Doyoung sees him by his locker, retrieving a few books for his classes.

And there’s an equally awful feeling to the days without him when he realises there’s no one to greet him like there are when he misses days of school— no one to welcome him back or fill him in on the work he’s missed.

Second period they have together, and it can’t be over soon enough, Doyoung can’t focus on a thing that isn’t him, and how badly he wants to talk to him.

The moment they’re dismissed, he’s out of his seat, navigating his way through people already moving out of the classroom.

“Can we talk?” He asks, one of the countless questions that’s been on his mind the past week— and he’s finally got the chance to bring it into words.

Taeyong’s hair is faded to what Doyoung decides is an even prettier pink than before. The more he looks at it, the more he realises the color suits Taeyong, highlights his features and brings out his eyes.

“Yeah.” Taeyong answers softly, clicking his pen and placing it down on his desk.

By now, the room had cleared to be no one but them, and Doyoung takes a deep inhale as gets a seat from the closest desk and brings it to the side of Taeyong’s, sitting down a moment later.

There’s so much he could say, but what ends up leaving him is another question, “Why do you care so much about your grades?”

Taeyong traces circles over the desk with a fingertip, watching the movement closely. “My sister was top of the class, had straight A’s, a perfect record, all that. And I know my parents don’t expect that of me, and I know they won’t be disappointed if I’m not the same as her— But I still feel like I owe that to them.”

He says it in a way that makes Doyoung feels like he’s the first to hear such a thing, and really, he doesn’t think he deserves that.

“Sometimes it sucks. To see people like you, that can be so... So carefree, you know? To actually have friends and fun and— I don’t know.”

Doyoung looks down to his lap, where his hands rest. There’s a moment of silence until he wills himself to be the one to speak up. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Taeyong.”

He hears Taeyong exhale and shake his head. “I didn’t treat you the best either.”

“But a lot better than I did,” He chimes in, looking to Taeyong now. “You tried to help me and I was a dick.”

Taeyong gives a slight chuckle. “Yeah, you kinda were.”

“I guess I don’t really have any reason for that, but... You’re different to anyone else, and that’s confusing and I still don’t understand it entirely, but—“

“I get it,” The other tells him, shifts the slightest closer. “I do.”

And before Doyoung can stop himself, he’s taking Taeyong’s hand that still rests atop of the desk, holding it tightly with his own. With that, with the small contact, he feels complete. Something he can’t describe in any other way.

Their fingers link together rather awkwardly, but Doyoung’s thumb finds place at the side of Taeyong’s hand, and softly brushes along his skin.

“As much as I totally get it if you don’t, I have to ask— Do you still want to tutor me? Because otherwise, I’m really going to start to worry.” He asks gently, somehow letting the movement become even more careful. Something had changed with that kiss, something had made him realise how fragile Taeyong is, and more importantly, how he wants to be the one to treat him gently, like he’s as precious as he is.

“On two conditions,” Taeyong hums, watching Doyoung’s thumb against his hand. “One, being that you actually give it a chance. Give _me_ a chance. And the second— that you teach me how to you know, be more you,” He shrugs. “To have fun, and not worry about school and stuff all the time, you know?”

“Teach you to have fun?” Doyoung repeats in amusement. “You have pink hair, how can I teach you to do anything more fun than that?”

Taeyong playfully rolls his eyes. “Oh, so you like it now?”

“It’s grown on me,” He teases, and he’s grinning, —actually _smiling_ in a way that isn’t faked and perfected— offering Taeyong’s hand a squeeze. “Of course I can do that.”

“There’s one more condition, actually.”

“Hm?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow.

“That you’ll kiss me again.” 

And that, Doyoung can most certainly do.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to whoever put 127 in school uniforms and inspired me to conjure this up in the span of 12 hours
> 
> for nai literally the sweetest friend and commenter ever :-]
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/yanghyucks)   
>  [twt](twitter.com/lovehoilic)


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